


In the Dark of Night

by pagerunner



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagerunner/pseuds/pagerunner
Summary: Allura's sleep has been troubled of late, but Kima's there to help talk her through it.





	

Allura was awoken that night not by the dreams clawing at her head, but by the jostling: a small, firm hand on her shoulder shaking her alert while its owner rasped, “Allie. _Allie._ Wake up.”

Her eyes shot open. It was full dark, her surroundings cloaked in shadow, and for a moment she looked wildly around, still gripped by the certainty of threat. But the figures that had cornered her were gone. All that loomed over her now, just barely discernible, was a groggy halfling, her hair hopelessly tousled and her borrowed nightshirt slipping off one shoulder.

Recognition eased the rush of panic. Allura took a deep, shaky breath. “What is it, Kima?” she managed to ask. “Is something…”

“No. You were shouting again.”

“Oh.” She swallowed, noticing the ache. “I hadn’t realized.”

“Obviously.”

Alllura gave Kima a look. After all the years they’d known each other, Allura was accustomed to how grumpy Kima could be when disturbed from sleep. Sure enough, there was a familiar touch of dourness there. With her eyes adjusted, though, she could make out the subtleties. Kima looked…focused. And in no small part concerned.

Allura pushed herself up far enough to sit against the headboard, rubbing at her forehead with both hands. “I’m sorry. It’s…”

“Nightmares again?”

There was no point in denying it. She let her hands drop back into her lap. “Yes.”

Kima regarded her solemnly, then considered the bed with a touch of wistfulness before shoving aside her blankets and thumping to the floor. “Come on, then. If neither of us are sleeping, I’m making tea.”

Allura’s eyebrows quirked. Left to her own devices, Kima tended to make tea as strong as your average sledgehammer. “I’ll help you with that.”

Kima’s sole reply was a snort. Allura also glimpsed the hint of a smile, however, as they made their way across the floor.

Allura was slowly growing used to their lodgings here in Whitestone. She’d certainly lived in grander spaces, but she’d also made do with much worse, and after a few weeks here it was beginning to take on a touch of personality. The house’s small kitchen, lit by enchanted lamps that came to life at Allura’s approach, smelled faintly of spices—Scanlan had been sharing his inexplicable wealth with everyone—and was warmed by simple fabric hangings on the walls. Allura had contributed those. Kima’s additions had been more practical. She was standing atop a sturdy stepstool now, yawning widely as she filled a kettle.

Without even thinking about it, Allura waved in her direction. Steam began rising from the spout as soon as Kima put on the lid. Kima looked at it, then at her, smiling crookedly.

“Next time you give me a lecture about patience,” she said, hefting up the kettle, “I’m stuffing this thing over your head.”

“The opening might be a little small.”

“I will _find a way.”_

Allura gave a low chuckle. When she turned to fetch the cups and tea, though, Kima waved her off. “I’ll get it. Sit down. You look like death.”

“Flattering,” Allura said under her breath, but she also looked down at herself. Her long, white nightdress was badly rumpled, as if she’d been tossing and turning all night. She’d probably kept Kima from any real rest at all. When she tried to straighten out the fabric, she noticed her fingers were trembling.

Conceding, Allura finally sank into a chair at the little table, where she tucked one leg under the other and began trying to mend her ragged braid. It unwittingly made her look much younger than she was, and she didn’t realize what an effect it was having until Kima came over to press a steaming cup into her hands. Allura murmured her thanks, took a sip, and thought fleetingly of asking for the sugar, but the words left her tongue when she looked up. Kima’s gaze was all concern now, and something in it shook her.

Kima quietly asked, “Gonna tell me what it was about?”

The question made Allura briefly close her eyes. The images were easy to summon, but it seemed cruel even to recount them. “Death,” she said. “And failure.”

It was quiet. Finally there was a scrape of a chair across the floor. Allura looked again to see Kima sitting close beside her, but tilted slightly away. “Fix my hair?”

Nonplussed, Allura did as she was asked. She set down her cup, reached out, and began gently untangling snarls. Kima took a long gulp of tea while Allura worked, waiting her out. At last Allura sighed. It was easier to say, at least, while not looking Kima in the eye.

“I keep dreaming of everything falling apart,” she said. “All my work meaning nothing _._ People dying. The world falling to all the worst of our enemies. You…” She trailed off. Kima had gone very still. “It barely matters what the horrors are. But in the dream I always know I’m responsible, or at least that I wasn’t enough.”

Kima didn’t reply right away. Allura, needing something to fill the space, combed again through a long fall of Kima’s hair. It had been a while since Kima had last hacked it short, and it reached past her shoulders now. Allura wondered how long she would let that go. She’d watched Kima cut it once with her own sword, after an enemy had caught at it and almost disabled her.

Almost made her fall…

Allura’s hands stilled. Kima set her tea aside and looked back over one shoulder.

“Allie,” she said quietly. “You’re taking too much of this on yourself.”

She shrugged uncomfortably, trying to keep her voice light. “Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s not a matter of reason, is it? Dreams tell us their stories whether we will them to or not.”

“True, I guess. Only explanation for the rampaging giant chicken dream I was having.”

And there Kima went again, jarring Allura from the worst of her thoughts. She had to ask. “The _what?”_

“Big as a house. No joke. It was tearing up the countryside, sending villagers flying, crushing trees…I may love chicken, but there are limits _._ I’m almost glad you woke me up from that one.”

A disbelieving laugh began bubbling up. After a second Allura let it loose. It was born of strain as much as anything else, but at least it was an honest release. By the time she’d recovered, Kima had turned her chair around again, facing Allura directly.

“Listen…I know all of this is hard,” she said, putting things plainly as ever. “And I’m sorry. I hate problems that I can’t just smash.”

Allura smiled wryly. “No, that sounds like an impending concussion at best.”

Kima made a small, amused sound before she paused, her expression sobering. “Still. Ugh, I’m bad at giving advice like this, but…a little faith might help.”

Allura tilted her head. Kima just wrinkled her nose. “I don’t mean the capital-F kind,” she amended. “Which might be weird coming from me.”

“Perhaps.”

“But if there’s anything I learned when things were shit…even the little things can matter. Faith in yourself. In us. In the good that you’re doing. And if you can believe that more by light of day, then it might be easier…”

She spread her hands at the room around them. Allura read the last few words without Kima even having to say them.

They were in such a small circle of warmth here, she knew that; it was so, _so_ small. Beyond it was darkness in every direction. It reached out to the city’s barrier, that hard-fought shield that might be no use after all, and stretched far beyond that still, out to the distant horizon where so much still awaited them.

But here at least, even in the dead of night, Kima was there. And despite all the doubts and conflicts Allura had seen her struggle with, _she_ believed. Allura reached out, gently touching Kima’s hair again. “Strong as stone, aren’t you.”

“I’ve learned how to endure,” Kima said, with a subtle touch of irony. Then she poked Allura’s shoulder. “But no comparing me to rocks. Bad memories, okay?”

Allura laughed, holding up one hand. “I stand rebuked.”

“And Allie…”

Kima’s voice had gone softer. Allura watched and waited.

“I get ‘em, too,” Kima told her, sounding rueful, even a little vulnerable. “Nightmares, I mean. Not sure how you can’t, in these times. But it’s always better when you have work to do, and…it’s better with you. So let’s stick to that as best we can, huh?”

There were so many things she could have said. In such a fight as this, there were no guarantees, and the future felt so uncertain. In the end, though, she answered simply. She reached across to take Kima’s hand, and Kima squeezed back just as tightly.

“That’s my girl,” Kima said.

And while Allura held to that image against everything that haunted her, her lamps began to glow even brighter without any conscious effort at all.

Maybe it wasn’t much. But until dawn finally reached them, rising slow and steady over the sheltering mountains, it was enough.


End file.
